


I'm With the Band ... of Vestial Virgins

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Gen, Humor, Laundrylist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Riggins roadies for Crucifictorious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm With the Band ... of Vestial Virgins

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a companion to [I'm With The Band ... Of Brothers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/49256). Tim's (mis)adventures as a roadie.

After that night where Crucifictorius kicked Bobby Reyes's ass, Tim Riggins became their roadie. Sort of. It wasn't like he went to every show, but even if he couldn't stay, he was there more often than not to help them set up and then he'd be back to help them pack their gear into Landry's wagon, and then after that ancient clunker died, the Dodge Grand Caravan that replaced it.

 

Three years after he graduated, Crucifictiorious actually got signed to a Christian record label and began to tour. Landry asked Tim if he'd like to roadie for real.

 

The $25 per diem was a complete joke.

 

As was the thought of spending extended periods of time locked in a rolling metal box with Landry and the rest of the guys.

 

Of course Tim said yes without hesitation. He was going nowhere fast in Dillon. And the idea of taking the summer off and actually seeing some of the country? Well, _that _ had an appeal. He quit his job at the local Diamond Shamrock, filled a duffel bag with clean underwear and socks, gave Billy the finger on general principles, gave Bo a noogie and promised to send postcards, and hit the road.

 

After 40 days and 40 nights of sleeping with the rest of the guys in the mini-van, or crashed out on the floor of a Motel 6, or in den of some youth minister's house, Tim sank into a deep depression.

 

Landry confronted him about "his struggle."

 

"Landry," Tim snarled, "remember back when you were helping me with that Steinbrenner "

 

"Steinbeck."

 

"Steinbeck book and I asked you about your band and if you got laid a lot, and you said not constantly but that you did?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You do know that lying, is a sin, right? I mean, that has crossed your mind, correct?" Tim's voice shook with emotion.

 

Landry's brow furrowed in confusion, "Yeah, but "

 

"Do you have _any _ idea of what percentage of your female fanbase has signed a chastity pledge?!"

 

"Well, uh, no, but "

 

"All of them, Landry." Tim sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. "Do you have any idea of how much I'm _not _ getting laid lately?" he hissed.

 

"Uh, yeah, but "

 

"I mean, _you're _ starting to look good, Landry."

 

"Tim! _TIM_!"

 

With a ragged gasp, Tim opened his eyes. Longhorns and white lights.

 

( _Oh. Thank. God. _)

 

Billy sat on the edge of the bed, eyes full of concern. "You were yelling out in your sleep, Tim. Woke me up. Bad nightmare?"

 

"Billy," Tim rasped, "you have _no _ idea."


End file.
